(Before the mesmerizing metastasis of suburbia) bare feet left imprints on the soft, cold sands of time. Men with nowhere to go, with nothing to aspire toward looked up in awe.
God wore a veil of infinite space.
Stitched within it the legends of man's new heroes. Bare feet became clothed and the pyres of warmth became pyres of glory.
Screaming into the sky.
An implication of desire. Crying widows.
The understated consequence of wanting. The shrill prospect of warring brothers.
Boots now rip into the desert sand.
The night is daunting now.
Gods absent in the sky. Heroes; shattered into a million pieces. What is left of them obscured by the cancerous phosphorescent lights of man's ambitious monoliths
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